


Scene of the crime

by skriftlig



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 18:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skriftlig/pseuds/skriftlig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire and Sylar are sent to find a man with emotion-enhancing abilities and bring him to the authorities. Things don't quite go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scene of the crime

Claire Bennet drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. Her brave new world hadn't turned out to be so different from her previous one—New York traffic still moved at a snail's pace, air conditioning still failed when you needed it most and, more importantly, people with abilities were still being tracked down by authorities. 

Only now the authorities were out in the open and everyone knew that they had "special agents" working for them too. Claire had volunteered for this role; she felt like she was _helping_ somehow this way and truth be told not many that had been discovered after her carnival revelation had wanted any part in this. Peter had volunteered with her. Micah too. It wasn't the future she had hoped for when she showed the world her ability, but she consoled herself that at least those they found were usually left alone with their abilities, after submitting social security numbers and undergoing various blood tests that checked for the more dangerous abilities.

Thinking about the more dangerous abilities brought Claire sharply back to her present assignment. And her present partner. 

The Locate and Educate program for finding and collecting people with abilities was new, and so the agents were on a constantly rotating partner basis. Some days Claire would be paired with another “special” and sometimes she would work with an agent without abilities, or “ordinary,” as the authorities had taken to calling them. Today she had been put with one very particular special.

God knows why, but Peter had brought Sylar along to the induction day for agents. It was designed to "encourage communication and develop trust between colleagues with and without abilities" or some other equally patronising line. Peter saw this team-work as a chance to change people's perceptions about their abilities and show the world that they were normal people who shouldn't be feared. Claire thought he'd have done better not to bring a serial killer along with him, but she'd said nothing. She knew her uncle was as desperate as she was to re-build their lives. To her surprise, Sylar had also seemed keen on a new start. Not that she was letting her guard down against him for a second.

Claire desperately checked her watch as the cars in front of her crawled forward. She was going to be late to the assignment briefing and she was getting annoyed. Scrap that—she’d been annoyed since learning she was paired with Sylar this morning. Micah had sent her a message to warn her before she arrived at the department. His electronics ability was not going unused by the authorities and he currently worked as the link between the central agency and their field agents, both specials and ordinaries, all across the country. He could have worked anywhere, but Claire was pleased he'd chosen New York. Micah was one of very few people she trusted these days.

When she finally reached the New York police department, she left her car in the car park and rushed into the building. It was cooler than outside and she felt her irritation drain away. She was determined not to let being partnered with Sylar get to her. She took the elevator and walked through a few corridors until she found the office holding the briefings for today's assignments. Brushing down her agency-issued shirt and skirt suit, she took a deep breath and opened the door.

She slipped into the empty seat next to Peter and glanced at the other agents. All of the specials in the room Claire knew well and quite a few of the ordinaries too. She'd been paired with a lot of them and of those she hadn't, well, her reputation as indestructible had made sure she was known. 

In her first few months after joining the program, agents had come up to her asking if it was true and wanting to see her ability for themselves. At first she'd obliged; she cut her arm or hand and showed them the fast-forwarded healing process. But soon it had become tiring and she began to feel more and more like a one-woman freak show., unable to walk down a corridor without being questioned. 

Then Sylar had got involved.

He announced loudly to a crowded cafeteria one lunch time that he and Claire were holding a demonstration of their invincibility and he needed volunteers who were capable of shooting a weapon. Agents had eagerly—a bit too eagerly in Claire's opinion—volunteered for the task and soon a space had cleared around Sylar at the back of the lunch room. Curiosity getting the better of her, Claire had slowly crossed the divide to join Sylar where he stood facing the growing crowd.

“From now on,” he said calmly “anyone wanting a demonstration of self-healing will have to play a game.”

He placed a gun on the table in front of him and stood back expectantly, arms folded over his chest. Confused looks were exchanged across the room. Even Claire stole a glance up at Sylar. Surely he wasn't suggesting their colleagues start shooting them? He wouldn’t put it past him to suggest they start shooting her.

“What's the game?”

Claire couldn't see the speaker but she did notice Sylar's mouth twitch in response.

“Russian Roulette.”

There was instant uproar at his words. Agents were shocked and angry and scared; some shouted at Sylar, others began threatening him before realising who it was they were threatening and backing off with an occasional furious look over their shoulder. And Sylar stood casually in the middle of it all, arms still folded with an amused look playing across his dark features. Probably he knew what his little performance would do, knew the anger and frustration it would create amongst their colleagues but Claire couldn't help it—she grinned. No-one had asked to see her ability since then. She was almost grateful to Sylar.

“What are you smiling about?” Peter whispered at her.

“Nothing,” Claire whispered back, shaking her head and returning her attention to the meeting. “What did I miss here?”

“Not much. The usual assignment stuff: allocation of partners and targets.”

Claire frowned at the word “targets.” Everyone at the department used it to describe the particular special they were collecting on their assignment and Claire hated it. Maybe because she'd been the “target” so many times herself, or maybe because it reminded her of the _other_ company. But whatever the reason, she loathed hearing it, especially coming from Peter's mouth.

“Sorry, sorry,” he grimaced, seeing her reaction. “Partners and specials.” He hesitated. “You know who you've got this time?”

“Some guy in the Clifton area. Micah only sent the name and location. What's his ability?”

“I meant your partner” Peter murmured, watching her closely.

“Yeah, I know. I'm with Sylar.”

Peter seemed suspicious at how calmly she said it.

“And you're ok with it?” he asked.

Claire looked over in Sylar's direction. He was sitting nearer the screen than they were and over the other side of the room. She could only see the back of his head and the parts of his shoulders and back that weren't obscured by his chair, but he managed to give the very strong impression he was bored. As usual, he was almost surrounded by female agents. There weren't many in their line of work, but those that were working today happened to be sitting in the seats directly behind him. They also happened to be looking more at him than at the screen.

“Claire,” Peter hissed. “Are you ok working with Sylar? I can ask them to switch you if you want.”

“No” she answered quickly. “No, it's fine.”

Peter frowned at her.

“What?” She feigned ignorance.

“Come on Claire. This is Sylar we're talking about. You won't speak to him. And now you want to work with him?”

“I don't want to work with him. But I'm not going to not work with him.” At Peter's unconvinced look she went on.  
“I still think he's a sick bastard, but maybe he's not all bad. You say he's good now. I want to find out what he's like for myself. If he even _can_ be good.”

She added that last bit without thinking. But now it was out there she realised it was true. She wanted to see what Peter and apparently every other woman in the room saw in the man who had chased her across the country, held her hostage on more than one occasion and stolen her ability. As she continued to watch him, with his dark hair slicked back and his lean body draped over his chair, she thought she probably already knew what the women saw in him.

Inspector Boole wrapped up the briefing with instructions on where each team should deliver their target for registering before wishing them all luck. Waving goodbye to Peter, who hung back to speak with his partner for the day, Claire headed for the door. She reached it a second after Sylar, who stopped in his tracks in front of it, nearly sending Claire careering into his back. One hand holding it open he stood back.

She stood motionless and confused, looking at him.

“Ladies first.” He said it slowly, one eyebrow raised, as if he were dealing with an idiot. Surprised and embarrassed at her own stupidity, she felt her cheeks flush slightly. Quickly Claire walked past with as much carefree, couldn't-give-a-shit attitude as she could muster.

“Thanks,” she muttered stiffly, not really knowing what to say. She wished she seemed more in control. Of course Sylar was totally composed.

“You're welcome, Claire” his amused answer called after her. 

She walked quickly down the corridor and away from him, breathing a sigh of relief when the elevator doors closed behind her, leaving Sylar to wait for the next one.

Claire had recovered by the time she reached the ground floor. She realised that Sylar had the folder with their assignment information, so she walked outside and waited. 

Each pair of agents were allocated a vehicle depending on their target's ability. Some were adapted for intense heat, some had parts that couldn't be frozen. For the more dangerous targets, vans were equipped with restraining straps and shots of sedatives. Claire had used those a few times—getting the dangerous targets seemed to come with being indestructible, but she sincerely hoped she wouldn't be needing one today. A few minutes later Sylar walked out of the building and headed over to her, folder in hand.

“What are we taking?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Car” he replied, pointing at a silver car parked nearby. “Just a simple meet 'n greet today. Try not to be too disappointed—I know how you usually like to create a big scene.”

She looked sharply at him, preparing a scathing retort and saw he was smirking. She just shrugged. It was true that somehow her assignments ended up being rather messy. Personally, she felt they deliberately gave her the psycho ones.

“I think you owe me a nice, quiet day,” she said.

She looked over at him to check his reaction. He was smiling.

“Do you want to drive?” he asked her when they got close.

She looked up at him again. It was pretty well-known that Claire never drove on assignments. Not that she didn’t want to, but somehow the story of her crash with Brody had got out and the other agents seemed to be more comfortable with her not behind the wheel. She wondered if this was Sylar’s attempt to annoy her, but he seemed genuinely curious. It wasn’t like he could die, she supposed.

“You can drive.”

She walked round to the passenger side and the door opened for her as she reached it. She rolled her eyes and got in. Sylar threw the folder into the back seat and got in beside her.

“Super memory,” he said in answer to her questioning look.

“What's the address?” she tested.

“Clifton Avenue, about 45 minutes’ drive from here.”

“Ability?”

“Some sort of emotion-projection ability. Enhances the emotions of people around him.”

Claire's apprehension grew. The last thing she wanted was to start getting overly emotional around Sylar.

“Why send us? He doesn't sound dangerous,” she asked.

“Apparently people lose their minds. Witness reported someone committing suicide from the depression this guy gave him. Guess we're top of the agents-we-don't-mind-committing-suicide list.”

Claire nodded. Anything involving a record of death usually meant they sent her. Maybe Sylar got the same treatment.

Unable to think of anything to say, Claire had stayed quiet after their initial conversation. Not the bored quiet she experienced when she was with other agents on assignments, but... something else. Wariness maybe. Uncertainty. Anticipation?

She heard the sat. nav. beep that told them they were close and was just congratulating herself on the completion of a small-talk-free journey when Sylar ruined it.

“So anything I should know about you that I don't already, Claire?”

She paused. “What are you talking about?”

He kept his eyes on the road, but he had that familiar amused look on his face, his lips curled in a smirk.

“Well if this guy starts making you confess your deepest secrets I want to know what to expect.”

“Eugh. Don't worry I won't be confessing anything to you,” Claire retorted. The thought terrified her and he laughed.

“Doesn't work like that. You'll have as much control over it as you had when I looked inside your talented head and you know it. Now come on Claire, we are colleagues now and I know you have secrets you're dying to share.”

“What about you? Anything I should be worried about?” she tried desperately to switch the conversation to him. “Or is murderous the only emotion you're capable of feeling?”

He smiled, but still didn't look at her.

“Not at all. Not for a long time. I feel shame and guilt and the need to make up for past mistakes.” He sounded so serious that Claire felt the most uncomfortable she had all day. She searched around for something to say and when she couldn't find anything he carried on. “I might tell you that. If his power reaches us.”

He must have thought he'd been too open with her because he added, “Or I'll show you how angry that pencil in the eye made me.”

She was 99% sure he was joking. She hoped so. She hadn't missed pissed off Sylar.

“How do we know what sort of emotion he'll bring up?” she asked him. She'd been thinking about this for a while.

Sylar shrugged.

“We don't. Boole doesn't think he can create emotions though. He only magnifies what's already there. So no telling me about your teenage dramas or the latest fight with the boyfriend.”

Claire huffed.

“Most of my teenage dramas involved running away from you,” she spat back. “And I don't have a boyfriend.”

Why the Hell had she blurted that out? God, she was pouring her heart out to Sylar already. Not that she minded being single in the slightest. But telling him about her personal life was insane.

He seemed momentarily surprised too. Being Sylar, he recovered first and jumped on the opening.

“Oh? No-one compare to uncle Peter?”

“Shut up.”

“Come on Claire. This is fun.”

Claire said nothing. She was determined not to continue this conversation. Unfortunately, Sylar wasn't taking the hint.

“You know, I do have the power of shape-shifting, if you're not getting what you want from Peter…” he grinned.

“Oh, God. That's disgusting Sylar. Peter's my uncle. And there's nothing I want from you.”

The satellite navigation beeped loudly and the car jerked sideways into a parking space. Claire turned to say that maybe she should have driven after all, but Sylar was staring straight at her and she struggled to find her voice. Dark intense eyes focused on hers.

“Say that again,” he said slowly.

“What are you-”

“Say it again,” he repeated in the same calm tone.

“Peter is my uncle?” she tried, wondering where the Hell this was going.

“And...” he prompted.

“There's nothing I want from you.” Claire finished lamely, unsure what to expect.

Too late, she saw his body shudder at her words. He arched one eyebrow at her, and she felt the familiar feeling of being caught.

Claire swore inwardly. How had she let this happen? She had known that she’d need to keep her guard up better with Sylar. Sure, she had had the occasional fantasy about him, but that absolutely did not mean she would ever do anything about it. He was Sylar. But now she had to see him at work nearly every day how could she not notice how hot he was? Every other woman had, she remembered, if this morning's meeting was any guide. But hot did not equal have sex with. Her conscience had been very clear about this point.

Sylar was still looking at her.

“We have an assignment to complete,” she faked a care-free attitude for the second time that day. “Let's go.”

He shook his head, smile in place.

“Come on, you got what you wanted, ok? You wanted to hear me say it and I said it. Not that it means anything.” She could hear her voice getting more high-pitched.

“Oh no, Claire. Now there's something that I want much more.”

Sylar had undone their seat-belts and the predatory look that she knew so well was beginning to make her think of all the wrong things.

“Damn it, Sylar. Just drive us to this guy's place.”

He didn't move, eyes glued to hers.

“Sylar,” she practically shouted at him.

“We're here, Claire.”

Furious, she wrenched her head away from him and looked out the window to the street outside. It was fairly busy, the sidewalk was dotted with people and there was a constant stream of cars driving past their parking place. She tried to concentrate but she could feel him watching her. 

She was getting hot and her eyes didn't seem able to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. She became very aware of her quickening breath and dry mouth. As she watched the street, a couple began to argue and soon it turned violent.

“What's happening?” Claire gasped. 

She could feel a tingling between her legs and she was suddenly struck by the thought that she was sitting a stupidly long way away from Sylar. Her skin felt hot and prickly and she rubbed her thighs together. Sylar’s eyes flicked down to the movement and then back to her face.

“He's here,” he said.

Sylar glanced around them. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, she noticed. She took a deep breath. How typical, the time she gets majorly horny from an ability, she’s stuck with Slyar for company.

A loud crash distracted her from studying the patch of skin below his shirt and she saw two cars in the middle of the road, still smoking from their collision. One of the drivers had left his car and was anxiously checking it for damage, muttering to himself, completely oblivious to the other vehicle. Claire could just make out a figure sitting in the other car, hunched over in the front seat, apparently sobbing into the air bag.

She shifted in her seat. She knew she should get out and help but she could feel her arousal growing, slowing her movements. She wasn't going to be able to handle being inside the car with Sylar for much longer. She pawed at her door and finally got it open.

“We should go and stop him,” she said.

She tried to look calm and meet his gaze but her eyes slipped down his face, along his stubble-covered sharp jaw line and came to rest on his full lips.

“Claire,” he drawled softly.

She clenched her inner thighs. She could feel wetness seep through the material there.

“I... We... need to stop him” she stuttered.

He leant over, his hand cupping her face. He ran his thumb over her lips and Claire heard herself whimper.

“Don't you want to find out what I'm like, Claire?” he coaxed. “Find out how very good I can be.”

Of course he'd heard her conversation with Peter earlier. Of course he'd bring it up now. His hand dropped to one side of her neck and he squeezed.

The car door slammed shut. Apparently Sylar was fed up of playing nice.

“We're not getting out of this car, Claire,” he growled.

His black eyes were intense and needy and his darkness sucked her in and turned her on. She considered being scared, but she was the only person in the world that he couldn’t hurt, after all.

Another wave of desire overcame her. She felt something she'd never known with West, never had with Gretchen: a deep, desperate ache of needing someone. Any last trace of self-restraint left her then and she pushed herself across the car on top of him. She saw his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before he realised what was happening, and he moved back to let her straddle his lap. 

His mouth was on hers instantly, in a rough, demanding kiss. His stubble grazed her soft skin and his tongue forced its way between her parted lips. He pulled her closer until her breasts were pushed up against him and his hands roamed over her body, over her butt and along her sides and back. Claire could feel his hard erection underneath her and she rubbed against it. Sylar let out a strangled noise and moved a hand lower, under her skirt.

She moaned as he stroked her, dragging his fingers over the top of her underwear. She bit his lip in frustration and he laughed against her mouth, before moving the material aside and tracing his fingers against her slick opening. He dipped one finger inside and she fell forward onto him, her head slipping down to rest on his neck. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of her, bringing his thumb up to brush against her clitoris, making her gasp.

Her whole body was rocking now as she fucked herself on his hand, desperate for deeper penetration. She raised her head until her mouth was level with his ear. 

“Fuck me,” she whispered.

Her body rose and twisted and she was slammed into the back seat. Sylar followed a split-second later. The assignment folder flew to the floor as he pushed her on her back.

A scrambled mix of his fingers and his telekinesis removed her clothes. Claire's last coherent thought was that this was the most productive use of his powers she’d ever seen. 

She fumbled with his shirt and got a few more buttons open, and pushed the material back to reveal toned muscles and tensed broad shoulders. Then his mouth covered hers again and she couldn't think any more.

His hands were in her hair, around her neck, squeezing her breasts. When his thumb and finger pinched a nipple, she quivered with pain she couldn't truly feel. His mouth kissed a line along her neck, and his hair tickled her flat stomach when he moved his head down her body. He settled himself at the other side of the car, his head nestled between her legs. His fingers and mouth teased her, stroking and sucking, and she needed more.

“Sylar…”

When she felt his tongue flick against her clitoris, her body arched off the seat and her cry was more demanding.

“Sylar. _Please._ ”

She reached down and grabbed his head. Pulling him by his hair, she forced him up towards her. His shirt hung open around his chest but somehow he'd got rid of the rest of his clothes. Her hands grabbed his ass and she pulled him closer.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His body was warm and heavy and Claire wrapped her legs around him as he positioned himself on top of her. He drew back from her face so that he could watch her closely and nudged the top of his erection over her entrance.

He paused for a second, almost unsure, and Claire lifted her hips to take the very tip of him inside her.

Fingers gripped her hip and with one slow, strong push he was fully inside of her, and she cried out at the sensation. Her hands clung desperately to his back as he started to thrust, filling her every time he slammed forward.

“Fuck, Claire,” she heard him grunt.

She felt the smooth muscles on his back sliding under her hands. As he sped up her nails dug into his skin and she clung on as her body shook. She heard him swearing and calling her name but his voice was hard to make out over her own shouts.

A hot ache swell up inside her. She was close now, she could feel spasms running down her body and heard herself gasping his name. Over and over, like a chant. Her eyes scrunched closed and she came with an intensity greater than three years of hatred. She felt Sylar follow moments later, his black eyes on her face and an expression unlike any she'd ever seen on him before. He looked desperate and unfocused before he collapsed on top of her and Claire felt an instant flash of power.

They lay there together, wordless and panting. After a few minutes, Claire felt from his rising chest that his breathing had returned to normal. His body was warm and wet with sweat. She was a different kind of wet.

Sylar pushed himself up and off of her. With one last look at her sprawled out below him, he grinned, his eyes taking in her flushed, naked form. There were marks around her breasts and hips that were already disappearing as she watched them and her tanned thighs were slick with evidence of him. She saw a few streaks of blood on her hands and wondered just how hard she’d been gripping him. Looking pleased, Sylar sat himself at the other end of the back seat and started to pull on his boxers.

Claire didn't move. Realisation hit her. She'd just had sex with Sylar. _Sex_ with _Sylar._ Had she completely lost her mind? She'd been noisy and demanding and rough. Somehow she thought Sylar probably would have liked all those things. Shit, she told herself, stop thinking about Sylar. She wondered if fucking her to within an inch of her life was a new ability of his.

Sylar had dressed and he looked down at her. She braced herself but he just floated her clothes from the various corners of the car they'd ended up in, to where she was still lying.

“I can go and get the special. You can stay here if you prefer,” Sylar said.

He looked at her for an answer.

“I'll stay,” was all Claire could manage.

By the time she'd got dressed and slipped back into the passenger seat, she'd thought of a plan. Maybe not one her father would value for its complexity, but under the circumstances it was the best she could come up with: she would pretend like this never happened. If Boole or anybody asked, she'd tell them the special's power had made her angry at Sylar, not so horny she'd thrown herself at him. It was believable at least.

Sylar came back quite quickly with the target. He was a short man, wearing thick dark glasses and a pained expression. Claire automatically wondered what Sylar had done to him. She found that right now she didn't care. She looked at Sylar. He was walking casually beside the man, dwarfing him in size and presence. Sylar oozed a natural confidence, which was probably only increased by their recent activities, Claire thought dismally. Sylar shoved him into the back seat that Claire had recently vacated.

Claire stared straight ahead on the drive back, fastidiously not looking at her partner. Every time she relived their assignment in her head a fresh wave of embarrassment hit her. He'd seen her naked, he'd touched her and licked her and fucked her and the worst part was he knew how badly she'd wanted every second of it. She would never be able to face him again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him open his mouth to speak but she cut him off.

“Don't say anything,” she snapped.

“Okay.”

“Don't tell anyone.”

“Okay.”

She risked a glance in his direction. He looked over at her.

“Don't look at me like that.”

His head went back to the road but she felt his smirk.

“I'll drop you home,” Sylar offered when they were back in central New York. He spoke in a surprisingly gentle tone, considering what he'd been saying _and doing_ to her only 30 minutes ago.

Claire was too tired to argue. And she desperately wanted a shower. She gave him her address and 5 minutes later they were pulling up outside the apartment block.

She stepped out of the car and walked into her apartment without a backward glance. Once she was inside she took out her cell phone. There was one person she was going to blame for this whole disaster. She found Micah's number easily.

_You could have warned me about today. The emotion-crazy guy was a walking porn film._

Less than a minute later she got his reply.

_What do you mean? Clifton Avenue was an x-ray vision special. Sylar found the emotion-projection girl three weeks ago._

Two blocks away, Sylar smiled as he heard the newly familiar sound of Claire screaming his name.


End file.
